Passive suicide and other ramblings
Every single night when I go to sleep at night, I ask and I hope that I will not wake up tomorrow, when I wake up each morning, I curse the fact that I have woken up. I am not suicidal, I just wish I was dead. I wish I could escape the pain. I wish I could escape the reality of my life. I wish I did not have to learn how to live without him. This scares people, but speaking to other widows, it is not an uncommon feeling, a lot of us seem to wish that every headache was an annurism, constipation a very advanced stage of cancer that is going to take us overnight and an anxiety attack a fatal heart attack. But somehow, we all know that tomorrow we will still be alive, no matter how we wish it to be different. This week has been a particularly difficult week as I plan a memorial dinner for what would have been Brian's 50th birthday. Somehow, it is making me face the reality of my loss, not that I ever thought it was not real, but "the widow fog" somehow protects us fro